


Broken Memories

by Aloe_Plant12



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Father, Abusive Parents, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Medical, Angst, Background Relationships, Doctor Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Drinking, First Person, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Levi is a softie, Lots of Angst, Medical Examination, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Jargon, Medical Procedures, Mental Health Issues, Modern AU, Multi, Nurse Eren Yeager, SO MUCH FLUFF, Slow Build, Soft Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Swearing, i bully my OCs, pretty much everyone works at a hospital, some Eren POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloe_Plant12/pseuds/Aloe_Plant12
Summary: Ariah Feltner comes from the Maria class and her life is a living hell. Living in an abusive household, a fight with her dad lands her into a hospital being treated by lead surgeon and physician Levi Ackerman—as well as his head nurse (and boyfriend) Eren Jaeger. Can they heal her body back to the way it was? Can they offer love and compassion to help fix her plagued mind that’s filled with only pain and hatred?
Relationships: Eren Yeager & OC, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Levi & Eren Yeager, Levi & OC, Levi/Eren Yeager, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. Brutal morning

**Author's Note:**

> HIYA EVERYONE I’M ALIVE!!!!
> 
> So I’ve been working on this story since 2018 and it’s STILL bad so I’m very very sorry but I wanted to post the first chapter just to see what y’all think. 
> 
> Notes:
> 
> -Ariah is the main character (she’s my OC) and it’s ‘her’ centric but there are a few chapters from Eren’s POV and possibly Levi’s.
> 
> -Also, Ariah is the only character written in first person so if it says ‘I, me, my...’ and it’s not in dialogue—it’s her speaking. For the Eren and Levi POV chapters they’re written in third person.
> 
> -There is A VERY graphic scene of violence in later chapters so I’ll be putting plenty of trigger warnings to protect y’all!! 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this—and if it’s not your cup of tea you can check out some of my other stories that don’t contain OCs *\\(^o^)/*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Some violence and blood

My eyes open. Slowly at first, only now adjusting to the light streaming through my tattered curtains. I’m cold, but hot at the same time—warm chills uncomfortably spreading throughout my body—begging me to take a shower.

That dream. The one I never seem to remember but wake up with the same feeling after it’s passed. Did I witness it last night only to forget? Or was it something entirely new that has awoken the monsters under my bed that I forced to live there so long ago. 

I look over to the clock on my nightstand. “Shit.” I whip my bed sheets off and untangle my feet from the thick comforter. My stuffed bear falls to the floor with a soft thud. I bend down and brush the dirt off his fur—placing him gently on my pillow. Dad is going to kill me if I’m late to school again, so I quickly refocus and fling off my oversized Linkin Park t-shirt before getting dressed. 

I brush my teeth and comb my hair as fast as I can, but still look like I crawled out of a dumpster—which is pretty much what our apartment looks like. I let out a soft sigh and take a moment to study the tired reflection staring back in the bathroom mirror. 

My hair’s cut choppy, and it barely touches my shoulders—yet it still finds a way to knot up. My eyes are a soft hazel like my mother’s and my lips form the same pout—apart from the scar cutting into my plump bottom lip. I pull on a beanie and grab my bag. 

It’s only dad and I, so our apartment is small. It has two bedrooms—both connected to the same bathroom, and a living room combined with a kitchen. 

I open the bathroom door and Dad is passed out on the couch in a stained tank-top—the one he used to wear with his stationary guard jacket. Ever since he was discharged, he sought comfort in alcohol—drinking himself to sleep whenever he didn’t want to deal with life’s problems—so there was no point in asking him to give me a ride to school. 

I kiss his scarred forehead and run out the door. 

When I close our apartment door, I notice a paper sign taped onto the elevator. I walk closer, investigating the messy note scrawled on the coffee stained paper. It reads ‘out of order’, and a sigh parts my lips. The elevator had been broken for months now, no one bothering to call a mechanic to fix it—already knowing the answer was ‘no, we don’t work for people like you.’ 

There are four classes of people where we live. First, there’s The Underground. Murderers, thieves, prostitutes—you name it—they live away from society doing as they please and only getting caught when they want to be. 

Next there’s Class Maria which my father and I are a part of. We’re treated like dirt and can’t even afford proper healthcare; we have the stationary guard patrol our only school because of how many fights happen. I constantly see people scrap up every dollar they find on the street just to afford weekly groceries—makes me sick to my fucking stomach. 

The next class is Class Rose, and they’re essentially ‘middle class’. They live comfortably and get government benefits just for being a group of assholes. I can’t even walk to school without being harassed by student’s attending Trost private school. 

Lastly, there’s Class Sina, and they’re all rich businessmen and stockholders. If you’re born in that class, you stay in that class—no matter how dumb or useless you are. The only way to become a subject of the Sina class is by birth or marriage. 

I quickly run down the four flights of stairs and finally achieve ground level. My backpack feels like a brick and bumps my bruised hip continuously—thankfully it only hurts when pressure is applied—if it was any worse, running to school would be living hell. 

I look at the huge clock tower in the middle of our city just as it strikes nine. 

“Shit.” 

I clench my fists as I run faster. I have ten minutes to get to class and I’m more than twenty minutes away. This’ll be my third tardy and then I’ll have to spend lunch hour with Ms. Brzenska. 

She isn’t the worst teacher ever, but it’s a pain in the ass to spend lunch with her. She’ll rant the whole hour away about how she never wanted to be a teacher and she was discharged from the stationary guard for no reason. She was 15th in her class but she couldn’t handle being on the field and was discharged to work in a school instead. I look back up at the clock, “shit, I’m not going fast enough.” I only have 5 minutes to get to class. As my vision drops down everything is blurred, and my face hits the ground. Shadows fall over my curled body and foot taps my back before a hand grips my hair and smashes my head into the pavement. 

My nose starts to pour blood and my hands burn with rocks digging into them. 

“Dumb ass Maria’s can’t even look where they’re going,” someone snarls, “get out of our way or I’ll call the Stationary Guard on your ass.” 

His metal toed boot collides with my head, as the people above snicker at my misfortune. 

A bell rings and one of them curses. “If you made us late to class, I’ll have my dad sue and take everything you own.” A voice snaps, a wad of spit getting caught in my hair. They all laugh once more before footsteps quickly fade away—signaling their leave. 

I stand up—running away. I know not to fight back, or I’ll get my ass whooped. I could’ve easily beat one of them in a fist fight, but a group? Very unlikely—to the point that overall it just isn’t worth it. 

I can finally see my school in the distance. My nose stopped bleeding, but my head still throbs, and my shirt is stained crimson—ripped just above my hip. I sigh, knowing I have to change into my gym clothes for the day to avoid unwanted questions. 

The late bell rings and I’m screwed. I crawl behind a bush near the school and take of my shirt and stuff it in the bush—I’ll get it later. I then pull on my oversized gym shirt and tuck the front into my pants, so it doesn’t look so long. 

I take out my phone from my pants and its cracked from the camera to the home button. I must have cracked it when the bastard tripped me. I gaze into the screen and there’s dried blood all over my upper lip and chin. I dig into the bush and pull out my ruined shirt and spit onto the sleeve. I rub where the blood is, and it comes off easy. 

I bury my shirt back into the bush and run to class. I’m going to be so late. 

I hurry down the school’s empty hallway passing the girls bathroom where they always smoked, and the dark, side hallway—where the boys fight and don’t want people to interfere. 

I pull open the broken door to my ELA class and slide in trying not to make any noise. 

“Nice of you to join us miss Feltner,” Ms. Brzenska says focused on chalk board and hosting that sly smile she always wears when shes caught someone, “detention.” 

“Shit,” I hiss under ragged breath, “shit.” 


	2. Blue Monday’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren POV chapter 
> 
> (Setting: at the hospital)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the 13 people who read chapter 1, I love you all lmao. This chapter is w a y better written because I can write in third person so...f*ck yeah
> 
> Enjoy lovelies <3 <3

Eren had just finished his second cup of coffee before debating to have another. With a sigh, he stands up and is about to start the hotshot again but stops when the lounge door flies open and hits the wall with a bang.

“Fucking interns,” The doctor entering growls, “making my fucking job a fucking hell.” 

“That’s a rude way to treat our soon to be co-workers, Levi.” Eren chides with a laugh strolling over to his flustered boyfriend. 

“I’d rather jump off a god damn bridge then work with those brats,” Levi snaps, wrapping his arms around Eren, “speaking of brats—how are you doing?” 

Eren laughs lightly and gives Levi a peck on the lips before nuzzling into his neck. “I’m good. How about you, Dr. Ackerman? Long morning?” 

Levi just grunts and sneaks his hands just under his boyfriend’s shirt—running textured thumbs over the soft tanned skin. 

“What time do you have to go back?” Eren asks, running his hands through raven locks and tracing calming circles into Levi’s undercut. 

“Half an hour.” Levi sighs, leaning into Eren’s innocent touches. 

“Did you want anything to eat or drink before you have to go back to work?” Eren asks, taking his superior’s hand and leading him over to the only couch in the lounge room. 

“Tea would be nice.” Levi breathes out, unprofessionally flopping onto the couch and throwing his arm back to rest on the top of it. He loosens the tie around his neck and takes his phone out. 

Eren smiles and kisses the doctor’s cheek before walking over to the counter and beginning to boil water in the kettle Jean left out. He takes a second to crack his back before searching the cabinets for Levi’s favorite tea. 

“That’s disgusting brat.” Levi scoffs. 

“Hey!” Eren yells, playfully annoyed, “you know my back needs to crack after working for long periods of time! You have no right to judge!” 

Levi chuckles—a rare feat—before continuing to scroll through the news on his phone. 

After the water is boiled, Eren pours it into a foam cup and drops in the teabag to brew. He walks over to his boyfriend and gives him the cup. “No honey, no sugar—just how you like it.” Eren beams, as he sits next to his boyfriend. 

Levi cracks a small smile with only his eyes and takes a small sip of the piping tea. “You should have let it brew longer before giving it to me.” Levi deadpans, wrapping his free arm around Eren’s waist. 

“I can never please you can I. You’re so mean, Levi.” Eren sighs, lightly smacking his boyfriend on the shoulder. 

Levi takes another sip of his tea before setting it down and pulling Eren into his lap—nipping gently at his neck. 

“Levi!” Eren gasps, “we’re at work, stop that!” 

“No one’s here.” Levi says, continuing to kiss down Eren’s jaw and feeling his boyfriend’s abs under his scrubs. 

“Still,” Eren sighs, trying not to give in, “I’m too busy pouting.” 

Just then, Levi’s belt vibrates—as does Eren’s. “What now?” Levi growls, taking the pager off his belt. “Fuck, Eren, let’s go—code blue.” 

Eren’s eyes widen but he hurriedly follows Levi out of the lounge and into the chaos flooding the hallway. This wasn’t his first code blue, but that didn’t change the fact that every time he’s paged for one a sick feeling settles in his stomach. 

They run down the hall, Eren close on Levi’s heels to not lose the doctor, and enter a room packed full of nurses doing CPR. 

“The hell happened?” Dr. Ackerman barks, beginning to examine the unconscious patient. 

“We had just finished a CT scan and then brought him back to his room for a check-up. We were waiting for his physician but then he started to have trouble breathing—” A nurse cried before being cut off by Dr. Ackerman. 

“Cut the shit and tell me what was on the CT scan.” Levi growls. 

“He has complete blockage of his coronary artery.” Another nurse yells over the chaos, as she hurriedly enters the room and hands the scans to Dr. Ackerman. Eren’s stomach drops as the nurse’s words slowly process. 

“Thank you, Petra—you’re the only one with any goddamn sense in this hospital. Roll the patient to OR 3 and prep him for a balloon angioplasty. Continue with the chest compressions—Eren, Petra, Eld—you’re all with me. Gunther, Oluo, stay with the interns and make sure they don’t fuck anything up.” Levi says, running out of the room with Petra, Eld and Eren in tow. 

Eren ignores the growing pain in his stomach and focuses on following Levi to OR 3 and saving this man’s life. 

They enter the sterilization room and begin washing their hands and getting into clean scrubs. Eren dresses himself, then helps Levi scrub in while making sure nothing touches Levi’s hands. 

“Eren,” Levi says, causing Eren to pause, “you look like you’re going to shit yourself. What’s wrong brat?” 

“It’s nothing.” Eren says, tying the last two strings together and fixing Levi’s cap. 

“He’s not going to die, Eren. We’re not going to let him die.” Levi says, capturing his boyfriend’s eyes with his own before entering the operating room. 

Eren holds back tears as he nods and follows his boyfriend into the room. 

They saved the man—after a long surgery and a few close calls—but he was going to make it. The whole situation had brought back too many memories. Memories of his mother who suffered from acute heart failure and a heart attack that ended her life. 

The walk back to the break room with Levi was silent, and Eren could only think about the promise he made that day. The promise to save as many people from injury and sickness that he could. He made a promise to her—and hell, he was going to goddamn keep it. 


	3. Lunch Detention but Not Really

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essentially the title—y’all will figure it out this chapter is short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 33 hits!?! Y’all I can’t why do you put up with my SHIT writing T^T
> 
> Anyway I love you all for it because this will be my least popular work and I accept that. Thanks to all who read so far and will continue reading—your time spent here makes me so so so so so very happy so I thank you all for that.
> 
> Remember that you’re loved and have a nice day lovelies!! <3

I sit down at my desk in the back corner. Its top is covered with the little doodles I drew, and other forms of graffiti from the people who share my desk in other periods.

I let out a hushed sigh as I take out the homework I surprisingly did. My handwriting is illegible like always, but I know my answers are right. I may be a dumb ass, but ELA is my strong suit—along with math class. 

“If everyone could take out their heads from their asses and open up their books to page 154, we can move on with the lesson.” Ms. Brzenska spits in her usual tone of annoyance. 

“Hey, Ariah, can we share a book? I left mine at home.” Hitch asks pursing her lips innocently, trying to charm me into sharing. 

I nod my head slightly and grumble out “sure” while sliding my desk to touch hers and push my book between us. 

I fucking hate Hitch Dreyse. Something about her fakeness toward other people makes me sick. Like she’s trying to be everyone’s friend while plotting behind their back at the same time. Even her boyfriend hasn’t found out she’s cheating on him yet—I almost pity him. 

She flashes me a final smile and we carry on with the lesson. I’m glad she doesn’t engage in conversation. 

I tune out Ms. Brzenska for the rest of the lesson and doodle on my desk. I can barely keep myself awake with her monotone voice going in one ear and out the other. 

The bell suddenly rings and I slam the ELA book shut—scooting my desk away from Hitch and into its rightful place. 

I put the book into my backpack and zip it up. I sling my bag onto my shoulder, trying to avoid the bruise on my hip. 

“Hey, you,” Ms. Brzenska says snapping her fingers in my face, “take this.” She waves the detention slip and I take it, slightly ripping the corner. 

“Thanks.” 

“I’ll see you at lunch.” 

I grunt with a nod and head out to science. 

*Time skip* 

Lunch has always been an issue for me. I always used to buy lunch, but the food is shit and I hate having to talk to people, so I started to bring my own lunch that I packed the night before. I don’t eat a whole lot either, so I always feel guilty when throwing away my lunch—so at least when you pack lunch you can determine your own proportions. 

I also never mind getting lunch detentions because then I don’t have to worry about sitting alone. I don’t care if people judge me for sitting alone—but I hate when people watch me eat. Ms. Brzenska doesn’t give a flying shit about what I do during her lunch hour, so I don’t mind spending time there instead of the cafeteria. 

I head for my English class and pass the cafeteria where the rest of my grade is having lunch. I see Ms. Brzenska’s classroom door, but the door opens, and I stop in my tracks. The school’s principal and retired Stationary Guard Commander Mr. Pixis exits the classroom and walks in my direction. 

He sees me standing—looking stupid I might add—and gives me a smile and a shoulder pat as he walks by me. 

I snap out of my daze and continue walking toward the ELA classroom. 

Ms. Brzenska suddenly rushes out of her class holding two books against her chest—her purse and briefcase hang loosely by her side. 

I hold out my detention slip, but my feet don’t want to move so I stand still looking like an idiot in the middle of the hallway. 

Ms. Brzenska stops in front of me and gives me a face that says, ‘I don’t have time for your shit so hurry up’. 

“Umm, Ms. Brzenska, I have a lunch detention with you today.” I say, uncomfortably fumbling with my words. 

“Sorry kid but you’re going to have to stay after, I have a meeting during this break.” 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Dad is going to kill me if I don’t come straight home after school. “But—” 

“Shut it, kid.” Her eyes narrow and her glasses slide to the tip of her nose. She flings her head back to reposition her glasses and looks at me once more before looking at her watch, cussing, and leaving me standing in the hallway. 

I roll my eyes, angrily purse my lips, and cross my arms to protect my stomach. I storm off to the library to eat but when I pull the door it’s locked. “Fuck.” I hiss, then head to the roof to silently eat my lunch in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the story is a bit slow...it’ll pick up soon I promise <3 <3 
> 
> Have a nice day all <3


	4. The Great Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Eren’s POV
> 
> After the code blue Eren goes back to work with Petra in the pediatric ward because Erwin suggest he transfer to that section of the hospital...it doesn’t look like he’s the only one who’s moving...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lil short I’m sorry T^T  
> The next ones fuckin HUGE tho so ig that makes up for it!! 
> 
> Okay almost 50 hits I see u...<3 <3 
> 
> Enjoy lovelies!!! *\\(^o^)/*

“One more stitch sweetheart and then we’ll be done.” Petra coos to the little boy sitting in his mother’s lap, stitching his foot up from stepping on a shard of broken glass.

Eren is busy finishing up typing the report for her while letting a soft yawn fill his chest and cloud his eyes with sleepy tears. 

“It hurts!” The little boy whines as he squirms in his mother’s lap—she lays a hand on his head and shushes him gently. 

“All done sweetie!” Petra gleams as she snips the thread and peels the gloves off her hands. She takes a roll of bandages and begins to wrap up the boy’s foot and taping it securely. 

Eren overhears Petra talking to the mother about caring for the wound and avoiding infection but he tunes out all of the details. He finishes typing the report, and with a satisfied huff he presses submit. 

Eren turns and sees Petra holding the door open for him. He smiles and walks out—she follows after him and catches up to his side. 

“So? How’s it like working with a pediatric nurse for the second half of the day?” She asks, smiling up at him with her warm caramel eyes. 

“It’s different—and new—I’m not sure if I like it or not,” Eren laughs lightly, “I think I’ll miss working the ER with Levi all the time.” 

“Well hon, I still get to work the ER sometimes when people are out sick or late—like when I was retrieving that CT scan for the patient this morning and assisted with that code blue.” She says with a light smile. 

“Yeah, I’ll definitely ask Dr. Smith if he really thinks this’ll be a good fit for me or not—It’ll be a switch but I did study for this originally so I think it might be worth revisiting!” Eren says with a triumphant grin before jogging off to Smith’s office. 

Erwin Smith, Chief of surgery—but spends most of his time leading pediatric surgery—and the founder of Wings of Freedom Research Hospital and Care Facility. He started the hospital on his own and only hired the best of the best to work there—Eren truly felt honored. 

Eren quickly reaches his superior’s office and hears shouting within—shouting that sounds an awful lot like Levi’s. He quietly opens the door to listen in. 

“That’s the most dumbass idea I’ve ever heard.” Levi tsks, “you can’t just fucking leave.” 

“Levi, I have a wife and daughter—I need a vacation and you’re the second in command here.” Erwin sighs, running a hand through his slicked back hair. 

“Plus, I fucking hate kids—they’re all little fucking brats.” Levi huffs—crossing his arms. 

“It’s for 1-month Levi, all I ask is you do physician work and general surgery in the pediatrics section of the hospital. Petra is the head nurse there—she’ll show you the ropes.” 

“I’m not a god damn intern—but I’ll do it if you shut up about it.” 

“Thank you, Levi,—” 

“On one condition.” Levi cuts. 

“Anything.” 

“You move the rest of my team with me—I’m not doing surgery with anyone else.” 

“Of course,” Erwin smiles, “Eren you can enter the room now instead of just peeking in.” 

Eren swallows hard and smiles shyly as he fully enters the room. “Sorry I was just coming by to see if you had really wanted me to move to pediatrics, but it looks like I’m going there anyway for the next month.” He laughs. 

“Wait,” Levi says, snapping his head to the side to narrow his eyes at Eren, “you were planning on leaving me for working with pouty ass brats all day?” 

“Levi, babe,” Eren says, laughing nervously, “it was only going to be for a little—after all it was the reason, I became a nurse—I wanted to work with children but then I met you and…” 

“Tch.” 

“Now you’re the one behaving like a pouty ass brat Levi,” Erwin sighs with a small chuckle, “anyway it wasn’t going to be forever—but now that you’re working in my place it won’t matter because Eren will be your nurse practitioner—and will work along side you for the following month.” 

Levi rolls his eyes and looks down at the white tile. 

“Come on Levi!” Eren laughs, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, “It’ll be fun—and a whole new experience for you.” 

“Dealing with one brat is enough.” Levi says, turning around and wrapping his hand around the back of Eren’s neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss. 

“You’re going to have to be professional if you two are working together—especially around children.” Erwin chides playfully. 

“I am fucking professional you big ass tree.” Levi snaps, turning to send a glare Erwin’s way. 

“Don’t worry Dr. Smith I’ll make sure he stays in check!” Eren promises, as Levi rolls his eyes and stands on his tip toes to get another kiss from Eren. 

“I know you will.” Erwin laughs as he shoos them out of his office and back to work. He couldn’t wait to hear all of the stories about Levi working with kids when he got back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!! Thanks for reading <3


	5. Hot Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING (SEE BOTTOM OF SUMMARY)
> 
> Ariah stays after school with her ELA teacher...consequences follow...
> 
> Okay so like heavy TW here y’all:
> 
> (Nothing worse then anything you’d find in AOT but just to be safe they’re listed here)
> 
> -Severe ab*se from parent (Dad)  
> -Graphic description of injury  
> -Graphic description of violence  
> -Verbal ab*se  
> -Drinking / being drunk  
> -Police officers (Stationary Guard)  
> -Ambulance siren 
> 
> *Mostly hurt NO comfort*  
> (Lots of fluff/comfort in next chapter tho)
> 
> Stay safe <3 <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO ANYONE WHOS READ THIS FAR I LOVE YOU AND YOU ARE VALUED AND YOU ARE AMAZING HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY 
> 
> *\\(^o^)/* <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

The bell rings and we’re all dismissed from our final class. As everyone from my math class files out of our shit school and onto the schools cramped busses—I stay and drag my sorry ass all the way down to ELA where I’m going to listen to Ms. Brzenska rant about her life again until I’m released.

I open the door and pop my head in before entering; last time Ms. Brzenska yelled at me for going in without her being there. 

Ms. Brzenska sits quietly at her desk—chewing on a turkey and cheese sandwich I’m guessing she didn’t get to eat during her lunch hour. She reads quietly from the open book in her left hand while only making noise to turn the page. She continues to not look up from her book as I take a seat at my desk and pull out my math homework. 

Ms. Brzenska puts down her sandwich and takes a sip of her coffee before her eyes swell with tears and she tries to cool down her burning tongue. I smirk subtlety, not looking up from my homework. She nods her attention away from her book, and scowls at me with piercing eyes glaring from behind her scratched up glasses. 

I continue with my math homework and ignore her looking at me. She takes this as a challenge and places her coffee down a little too hard, startling a few burning drops to stain her book and fall on her desk. She then audibly slams her book closed with one hand and throws it atop a stack of messily graded papers; I still don’t look up. 

Flaring her nostrils, she throws her feet up onto her desk and takes a pretend sip of her coffee—because it’s still burning hot—and holds it in her hands. “So, miss Feltner, may I ask why you were late for my class this morning; again?” 

I look up. “Sorry.” I grumble out and go back to my math homework. 

“Sorry isn’t telling me why you were late, brat, so give me a real excuse this time.” She says rolling her eyes and blowing a stray piece of dull hair from her face. 

I let out a small sigh and try not to lose my shit. “I slept late, and my Dad was at work so he couldn’t drive me.” 

“That’s funny,” Ms. Brzenska let out a soft chuckle, “because I called your house and your father picked up sounding very—hungover—so now I wonder how he could’ve been at work if he was home all day; would you like to explain that, Ariah?” 

I bite the inside of my cheek harshly. This bitch better shut up or I might get myself into bigger trouble. “You have no right to do that—” 

“It’s none of my business? As a teacher it’s my job to get to the bottom of my students’ inability to attend my class on time.” 

“But that’s none of your business.” I say as I stand up pushing back my chair with the force of my legs; it falls over with a crash. I approach her desk and place my shaky hands palm down on its surface. 

She takes in an unamused breath and closes her eyes, “Hell I’m surprised he could even pick up the phone he sounded so hungover,” she places down her coffee, “he’s probably drinking because he has to live with a bratty little shit like yourself.” 

“That’s it.” I say as I grab her mug filled with scalding coffee and pour it all over her lap. She lets out a horrified shriek and kicks her desk forward trying to get out of her chair and wipe off the burning coffee. 

I grab my bag and leave my homework scattered on the desk. I head for the emergency exit in the classroom that leads to the outdoors while Ms. Brzenska is busy cussing me out. I push the door open and the fire alarm echoes through the building. 

I ditch my clothes that I buried in the bush earlier today and focus on getting home without getting arrested by the Stationary Guard for assaulting and possibly 2nd degree burning a teacher. 

My hip aches the whole time I run home and can’t wait to take my bag off. The clock suddenly chimes 3 and my legs speed up. “Shit, Dad’s going to kill me.” I say biting down hard on my tongue. A metallic tang slithers on my tongue but I don’t pay too much attention to it. 

Dad always expects me to be home by 2—when school gets out—and if I’m not home by then I don’t know what he’ll do to me. 

I bolt up the creaky stairs to our apartment room, just clinging onto the little hope I have that he’s passed out drunk and won’t remember I came home late. Last time I came home late he was so drunk that he couldn’t even form proper sentences—I can only hope for that luck again this time around. 

I reach our apartment door and fiddle with the key in my hands. Sweat from my fingers embroiders its dulled edges and I put it into the keyhole waiting for the satisfying click to sound when I turn it. 

I bite my inner cheek while turning the doorknob and pushing the door open. I quietly poke my head in. He’s left his usual spot on the couch—but a spilled beer lays on the broken coffee table and the news is playing on the TV at an unusually low volume. 

I close the door and lean against it before deciding to see if Dad’s awake or even home. “Dad?” I call out, letting my bag roll off my back and fall to the floor with a soft thud. “Dad, are you home?” 

Suddenly there’s a crash in the bathroom and I grab my phone from my bag along with my house key—just in case. The bathroom door is open ajar, and I can hear faint panting from inside. 

My breath hitches up on me as I near the bathroom door—I can feel a small headache developing. I push open the door with my knuckles and grip the key in my hand a little tighter. My dad is gripping a shattered beer bottle with white and bloody knuckles, he’s hunched over the sink with no shirt on, and a rancid smell surrounds my face. I put my hand to my nose to keep my eyes from watering because of it. “Dad—it’s me—are you okay?” I choke out, and go to place my hand on his back, which is heaving up and down unnaturally. 

As my hand brushes his bare skin he whips around and grabs my wrist—crushing it with powerful grip that I didn’t know he had. The faucet drips as he drops the shattered bottle and glass coats the floor. “Where the hell were you?” He demands, while wiping vomit off his stubbled chin. 

“I-I was staying after for—” 

“You need to be home by 2 you little bitch—you kept me waiting.” He grips my wrist a little harder and it feels like the bones are being crushed together. 

“Dad stop it—you’re hurting me.” I cough out—gasping as he digs his nails into my bruising wrist. He grabs my neck forcing me to look into his eyes. “Fuck you Ms. Brzenska,” I rasp under my breath, “this is all your fault.” 

“The hell did you say to me?” Dad yells as he lets go of my neck and punches my stomach. He lets go of my wrist and I tumble to the ground—glass littering itself into my skin. This isn’t him, and he’s too drunk to realize what he’s doing. 

I look up with just enough time to dodge his next blow to my stomach, but he complements me with a kick to the face. His metal toed boots are coated in the red dripping from my nose. 

“Dad stop it.” I hiss out while crawling to my feet. Just as I get up, I run into our already destroyed coffee table. “Shit.” I laugh out, but my body is screaming at me to get out of our apartment. I reach the doorknob and turn back to see Dad is charging at me. He grabs my shirt collar just as my hand brushes the cool brass knob. I let out a chocking sound as he throws me around like a punching bag. I try to grab at him and kick him but I’m too weak and his body is too slick with sweat. My wrist—along with the rest of my body—smashes into a wall and I fall like a bag of bricks. I let out a slight whimper as my vision starts to go spotty. 

“You little bitch. This is all your fault. It’s your fault that Emily left me. It’s your fault that I was discharged. This is all your fucking fault you little piece of shit. Go to fucking hell and burn.” He barks in my face. He grabs me by my hair and starts smashing my head into the now stained wall. I can feel my left eye swelling up, and blood is filling my mouth. A steady stream of blood drips down from my forehead and scalp onto my neck— ruining my torn-up shirt. I can only hear ringing at this point, but I know he’s shouting at me. Maybe he’s right—maybe I am a piece of shit, but I can’t take any more of this. I block my face from another blow with my good arm and the glass shards dig deeper. 

I sputter out blood trying to tell him to stop but the droplets seep into his pants—dripping down his chest with no words to accompany them. I can hear the faucet dripping even though I’m nowhere near the bathroom. Tears prick my eyes as he lifts me up by my shirt and hurls me into the back of the couch. 

I can hear the complaints of our various neighbors on the phone with the Stationary Guard yelling about the noise coming from our apartment. 

I start to cry but slowly stop because it hurts too much. Dad gives me one final kick to my ribs, and I hear some of them crack before I lay in uneasy silence. 

The sound of the Stationary Guard cruiser siren rings in my ears from outside and I can only guess what’s going to happen to me next. “He doesn’t mean it,” I whisper, “He doesn’t mean this—he’ll say he’s sorry.” 

Dad comes back limping and he’s holding something in his hand. He walks over to me and grabs me by my hair. I only have the strength to plead with my eyes and he lets go of my knotted locks. My head falls to the unforgiving ground with a thump. 

“Mama,” I whisper, “please, make him stop.” Tears burn my cheeks as they drip into my open wounds. My breathing gets shallower as time ticks on by the second, and my chest feels like it’s on fire as the glass in my arms rips at my skin, and my ribs tear at my lungs. “Mama, help me.” 

Suddenly my face blossoms with pain as Dad kicks me, then crushes my head by putting his foot on my skull and pushing down hard. 

“Don’t ever call her your mom you little shit—you hear that?” He pushes his boot down harder as he bends down next to my ear. “You have no right to address her like that, fucker, you hear me? Answer me!” He spits in my face. “Answer me you bitch!” He yells again, grabbing my chin. I twist my face away from his sweaty grip and he backs away far enough that I now know what he’s holding. 

There’s a loud knock at the door. “This is The Stationary Guard, open up—there have been several noise complaints and we’d like to talk to whoever is responsible.” 

Dad cocks his Glock 17 and points it at my head. I let out a small whimper. 

“Is everyone okay in there? Open up.” The voice calls again followed by an angrier knock. I let out a louder whimper, but Dad drops his gun and sticks his hand over my mouth. 

His breath is harshly stained with liquor. I close my eyes praying I won’t fuck this up. 

I kick out my right leg—catching my Dad off guard and hitting his Glock out of reach. I then bite down on his hand—blood gushes from his wound. He lets out a yell and steps on my ribs with full force then proceeds to scramble for his gun. “You little bitch, I’m going to kill you.” He spits. 

The Stationary Guard is done waiting and they kick down our door—detaching one of the hinges. The officer on the left holds up his gun and points it at my Dad who is holding his own. Blood drips from his wounded palm cradled against his chest. The girl looks at me and I can see out of the top of my view that her eyes widen. She unhooks a radio from her belt with an unsteady hand and takes another look at me before talking. “This is Anka Rheinberger, and umm—we request some, some backup and an ambulance at 122 Paradis rd. in Shiganshina.” She takes a steady breath to calm herself before continuing. “The suspect is an average height—around 6 feet—Caucasian male with a slightly muscular build, brown hair and brown eyes. He possesses a Glock 17—loaded and has intention to fire. There’s also an injured adolescent around 14 years of age—a Caucasian female with black hair and hazel eyes. She has several lacerations to the face and body and in need of emergency medical attention.” Anka puts her radio back on her belt and inches toward my limp body. I can barely breathe without fire filling my chest. 

“Don’t take another step forward.” My Dad huffs out and raises his Glock—not at her but me. Anka freezes in her steps and the faint sound of an ambulance rings in my ears, but I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or not. 

Suddenly Anka lurches toward me and a gunshot goes off.

My vision turns foggy as my hand traces over the blood pooling in my abdomen. I let out a cry because the spot is tender and my body surges with adrenaline. 

I cough up blood as I flip onto my hands and knees to get up. I run passed a shocked Anka while her partner is busy pinning my Dad down. He’s still cursing at me as I limp away. 

I need to get out of here. 

I fight my fatigue and stubble to the stairwell. I wipe back hot tears of straight up agony and hear Anka call over her radio to block my exit and take me to a hospital. 

I hurriedly open the door to the stairwell and press my back to the cool metal. 

Taking a deep breath, I practically tumble down the stairs—blood trailing behind me. “Hate to be the person to clean this shit up.” I nervously laugh to myself. 

I finally get to the bottom floor and freeze. I can hear the officers and EMT’s waiting outside for me—unable to run in and grab me because the door can only be unlocked from the inside. 

I stand waiting—knowing that if I choose to sit, I won’t be able to get back up. After a few minutes of pondering I reach a solution. A stupid solution—but a solution. 

I back myself up, so my hunched body is flush against the wall opposite of the exit. If I’m going to get past them and run away from all this shit, I need a head start. It’s now or fucking never at this point. I wheeze out a shaky breath and grip my feet into the concrete floor before pushing off. I only gain a small amount of momentum before crashing into the metal door with my bruised shoulder, it swings open while my shoulder blisters with pain. I’m instantly blinded by an extreme amount of sunlight that I was not expected to be hit with. 

People start grabbing at my shirt and pressurizing my wounds. 

It hurts. Holy shit this hurts. 

“Let go of me,” I hiss pitifully, my body is once again losing its last bit of strength, “shit, let go of me, please.” I start blubbering and tears pour from my swollen eyes as I fight against the bodies trying to hold me down and soothe me. “Let go.” I choke out between shallow breaths. My vision blurs the more I fight against the people trying to help me, but I finally break free and stumble into the road landing belly up and cringing with agony. I flip off my back and onto my knees, cursing and coughing up blood onto the pavement. 

I look up right before I’m surrounded in a blinding light and something large hits me. My back cracks when I hit the side of what I think is my apartment complex and I feel every bone in my body shatter. “Leave me alone,” I say to the blinding sun, with tears dripping from the tip of my nose to my bottom lip, “please.” Pain sprouts from every muscle and every joint of my body right before a dark shadow is cast over my vision. 


	6. Count down from 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariah is in the ambulance being taken to the hospital where she meets a short doctor and his green eyed companion 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> -Graphic descriptions of medical stuff  
> -Blood  
> -Injury (?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO CLOSE TO 100 HITS I NEVER THOUGHT ID SEE THE DAY
> 
> BIG thanks to ALL who took the time to read this story. More chapters coming but here’s one of my favorites. Cue soft boi Levi T^T he says he hates kids—but damn does my boy have a soft spot for em <3

My conscious keeps going in and out.

Rough cotton straps keep me secure on the hospital gurney inside the ambulance, and someone shoves an IV into my left arm. I let out a groan and everything around me fades into the back of my mind, surrounded only by emptiness and a siren overhead. 

A road bump knocks me out of my peace, and my eyes burst open. Panic courses through my bloodstream and I’m back in the bathroom with my father—only the door’s locked, and he has a gun. 

My shoulders lurch forward, and cold hands grab at them, gently pushing me back down. “No—help me—no—stay away—hurts—stop—!” My eyes close tightly—chest racking with sobs drowned out by the ringing in my ears. 

“Poor kid,” one of the EMTs says to a coworker beside him as he presses on my abdomen, “do you know what happened to her other than being hit by that car?” He leans over my face slightly, allowing me to get a glimpse of his big chocolate eyes and freckled cheeks. 

“No, but I heard it was some kind of abuse situation.” A woman says with a sigh—her lidded eyes holding an unreadable emotion as she bandages my wrist to a block to keep the bone from chipping into more fragments. 

The shortest EMT moves closer to me, and my eyes flutter open as I hear her shifting. Her hands reach for the blanket tangled around my feet, but I start kicking as hard as I can—making the blanket fall to the floor. My body jerks up again as the IV in my arm rubs against the straps and pops out—blood squirting from the wound. Another EMT perks up and holds my arm down as the woman fixes my IV and moves the blanket to tuck under my bottom lip and around my exposed arms. Her pale blond hair kisses her neck and she gives my swollen face a gentle smile. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re running a fever, so we need to keep you warm without getting in the way of my friends who want to help you.” She coos. 

“No—home—I want—no—help—no—!” 

“Shh,” she says, placing a hand on my forehead, “just relax sweetheart. You’re safe now.” 

I close my eyes tightly, pressing my chapped lips into a thin line to avoid screaming out in agony. The pain in my gut is almost unbearable but the idea of going to a hospital is even worse. 

“God, I thought that kid would never stop fighting.” One of the EMTs says with a grunt. 

“Jean!” The blonde-haired woman yells, while hitting him on the head. “She’s just scared,” the woman continues, “you don’t need to be an asshole.” 

He grumbles something like “Whatever Historia” before rolling his eyes. The tall, short haired brunette with freckles and heavy eyes glares at him but says nothing. 

I stop listening and let my mind melt into the thin cotton blanket, before I go unconscious again. 

My body is shaken awake as the ambulance starts to slow down—anxiety forcing my heart rate to rise as I’m being loaded out like dead weight. The blanket is still snug around my body, but air rushes through its thin fabric and I start to shiver. 

My hands rack with tremors and I bite the inside of my cheek. Two nurses hold the door open and once I’m pushed through, all hell breaks loose around me. 

My blanket is torn off and I whine for the lost warmth. 

Nurses crowd around me and start pressing on my wounds and feeling for a pulse as I’m rushed down the hall. As I’m being pushed, I hear a man say, “Levi’s team, head to OR 5 and scrub up, Dr. Ackerman is waiting for you there.” Four nurses leave my side and run in front of me—they’re quickly lost from my sight within seconds. 

Tremors in my hands spread to my feet and legs and I start to feel lightheaded. I try to take deep breaths, but air doesn’t seem to be enough, so I breathe faster to get in more air. I squeeze my swollen eyes shut and start to kick my legs to get the various nurses’ attentions. 

No sound comes out except a quiet whimper. I wiggle one of my arms up and pull at the straps holding my body in place. 

“Damn-it, what’s she doing?” One of the nurses yells to the others as she holds my legs to the gurney. 

“Stupid kid,” A nurse spits under his breath, “Probably was playing with a gun and shot herself that’s why she’s here. I’m sure Dr. Ackerman is thrilled to be saving another dumb ass.” 

I throw my head to the side and fight my less injured arm out of a nurses grip. Throwing a punch at the nearest nurse, my bloodied fist connects with his jaw. I fight to roll out of the gurney and start running, but my body is shoved back down. My back aches as I try to sit up against their will. 

One of them grabs my hair and holds my head down. Shit, that hurts, but my body continues to shake with fear. “Let go—no—help me—help—no!” 

Giant doors are in front of me, I read, “OR 5”. My body trembles more violently as I’m pushed in. I’m being unstrapped from the gurney seconds later—trying to sit up and struggle against the nurses putting me on the operating table. 

My senses are dull, but I hear a faint voice that sounds familiar. It’s rough and feels like sandpaper on an open wound. It reminds me of my dad. 

I panic and kick my legs—refusing to lay still—before a strawberry haired nurse leans into my sight and offers a comforting smile. She stays like that for only a second before looking away and calling out orders. 

Even though I’ve given up fighting, my body continues to shake, and my vision becomes splotchy. I begin coughing up blood and struggling to breathe on my own. My hands find my neck and I start pulling at the cord tangled around my windpipe. 

A nurse tugs my hands to my sides and three others begin to hook me up to all types of equipment. The nurse with the strawberry hair takes my temperature and examines my hands. “She’s running a high temperature and sweating excessively, but her lips and nails are tinted blue.” She says, pressing on my nail beds and the tips of my fingers. 

“Fuck, I think she’s going into shock!” A different nurse with a brown undercut seen though his transparent cap yells, “those dumb asses completely ignored the signs! Dr. Ackerman is not going to like hearing the new interns fucking up so bad. Now we’re going to have to do tests once she’s under to make sure.” 

“Damn it,” Another one yells, “hook her up to a red blood cell transfusion, now.” 

“You got it Eld!” The strawberry haired nurse calls back. 

An oxygen mask is placed over my face while a saline solution and blood transfusion are jabbed into my right arm. At this point I’ve lost it and I can’t even tell where I am anymore. I start shaking my head and pulling at the oxygen mask with all the strength I have left. I’m no longer crying—I’m straight up fucking angry. I clench my teeth and wrestle with the mask—hoping the band snaps so meds can’t be pumped though my windpipe. 

A door opens and two people enter in full surgical scrubs and the nurses fall silent—quietly working. I can tell one of them is a doctor and the other is a nurse based on the color of their scrubs. I continue to fight with the oxygen mask while the tremors in my hands fight with me. 

“Why the hell is she not under yet?” The doctor asks in a gruff voice as he looks at me, then my vitals, then back at me. 

“The interns didn’t check for signs of shock.” A nurse grumbles—pressing on my abdomen. I yelp out in pain. 

“Fucking interns. I fucking knew it.” The doctor curses. 

A switch snaps on and the lights in the OR brighten and blind me, causing my heart rate to spike on the monitor. I zone out from the orders being shouted and monotone beeping in the room to focus on the oxygen mask snug on the lower half of my face. With one last tug the band snaps and I throw the mask across the room—but struggle to breathe on my own. It goes silent in the room for a spit second before I’m once again struggling against bodies to be put out of my misery. I try to sit up once more but fail to lift my back anymore then a few inches off the icy metal before coughing up blood. The urge to vomit burns my throat. 

Suddenly my tremors reduce greatly, and my body falls limp into a set of hands laying me back on the table as my mind becomes groggy. I look up to see a nurse emptying a syringe into my IV bag. My head screams ‘no’ but my body cringes at the idea of moving. 

“Alright kid, we’re going to put you under now; when you should have been out 10 minutes ago.” The short gruff doctor says while staring down everyone in the OR. He mentions for the anesthesiologist to place another oxygen mask on me. “Let’s try to keep this one on, okay?” 

My heart rate perks, and I start thrashing my head away from the mask. A nurse readies another syringe, but the tall gentle looking nurse who entered with the doctor holds up his hand to stop her. 

As I fight with the anesthesiologist, other residents have already started working on cleaning and sterilizing my wounds. 

The doctor abruptly takes the mask from the anesthesiologist and places it on my face. His grip is sturdy but gentle. I pull at his fingers and try twisting my head away but nothing budges. The anesthesiologist begins prepping a needle and I start to panic—lungs pushing into my shattered rip cage as I cough and struggle to stay awake. “No—no don’t—help—!”

“Kid,” the doctor snaps, his harsh gray eyes pierce into mine and I freeze, “relax. You’re making this difficult; try to relax.” 

I start to cry. Tears gush down my red cheeks and leave clear paths in their wake. My arm burns as I rub it over salty tears—face stinging as the glass in my arm is raked against it. “Mama, help me.” I cry—the first time I’ve been able to form proper words. 

“Shh, kid, you’re okay.” He coos attempting to make his voice sound comforting but it just sounds impatient. He pulls my hand off my face harsher then intended and takes a quick second to reconfigure himself. “I’m going to introduce the nitrous now; I promise it doesn’t hurt, okay?” He says while looking at me for recognition that I heard him. I vigorously shake my head for him not to. “Work with me kid. You want this to end right? Be in a nice soft bed? Let us help and I promise it’ll be over before you know it.” 

I bite my tongue harshly and swallow blood. My eyes flicker open and I shakily grab the hand still holding the mask on my face. He stares curiously at me before allowing his grip to loosen. I take his gloved hand and place it on my cheek—leaning into the touch. It’s cold—and his eyebrows knit together—thinking. “S-scared.” I choke out. 

“Figures kid—you’ve been through hell today.” He starts to pull his hand away but stops. “Ready?” He asks, eyes crinkled with concern. I give him a small nod before closing my eyes tightly—lip trembling. I open them the tiniest bit to see him nod back at me and give a wave to one of the nurses. He studies and takes note of every movement I make while keeping a careful eye on my vitals. 

Relaxation floods over my body like being dipped in sweet honey then relaxing in a cup of tea. I turn my head slightly to see the anesthesiologist inject a sedative into my IV line. “First dose of fentanyl administered.” He calls while scribbling down something on a chart. My eyes widen but before I start to panic the gruff doctor soothes me with his voice. 

“Hey, kid, look at me, okay?” 

Something about his voice feels different. This time it sounded worried—but hearing that relaxed me; like I splashed my face with warm water. It’s the first time someone’s really sounded worried about me since my mom left. Something about the nature of his sharp voice reminds me of her gentle touch and warm hugs. 

He gently pinches my chin and turns me toward him, drawing my attention away from the needle. “Do me a favor okay, kid? Close your eyes and count back from ten, yeah? Can you do that for me?” 

“10…9…” We say together. 

“Good.” He mumbles to himself while looking at my vitals. 

“8…7…” We continue and I open my eyes, but he nods at me to close them again. 

I squeeze them tightly and continue on my own. “6…5…” 

The anesthesiologist talks over me, saying “second dose of fentanyl administered.” 

My lip quivers as I choke out “4…3…” and my body begins to sink into the metal table. Its warmth calls me, and I begin to drift away into sleep’s open arms. The noise around me drips away like water down a drain and I’m left alone; with a microscopic smile on my face. 


	7. Count down from 10, again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An hour before Ariah arrives, Levi and Eren deal with patients and stuff. 
> 
> I honestly don’t know what to write for a summary.
> 
> So basically soft Levi and Eren with kids and then more soft Levi and Eren when they meet Ariah. 
> 
> (First half is an hour before chapter 6 and the second half is essentially chapter 6 from Eren/Levi’s POV)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> -Needles  
> -Medical procedures  
> -Blood mention  
> -Injury mention  
> -Su*cide mention (no description and not in-depth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAIT SO PEOPLE ARE ACTUALLY READING THIS AND IT MAKES ME REALLY REALLY REALLY HAPPY BECAUSE I NEVER THOUGHT I’D GO OVER 50 HIT SO—
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL
> 
> THANK YOU <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

**an hour earlier**

Eren had been walking with Levi back to the pediatric wing and the scowl still hadn’t left Levi’s face.

“Levi,” Eren sighs, “you can’t be mad all day—we have patients to meet with and you’ll scare them if you keep scowling.” 

“I can’t believe he calls me into his office a god damn hour before he’s leaving to go on fucking vacation with his fucking family.” 

“Levi its normal for people to take vacations from work,” Eren sighs again, “honestly you’re just a workaholic—now that I think about it, we need to fix that.” 

“Tch.” Levi sneers, stopping in front of the room of his first patient. Child patient. He takes the clipboard off the door. Avelynn Reece, age 7, diagnosis—leukemia. 

The door creeks open and there’s a small girl with a multitude of tubes inserted in her tiny body and a feeding tube up her nose. Her hair is greasy and pulled back in two pigtails—its caramel pigment not as bright as it should be—and her skin is sickly pale instead of flushed tan like other kids her age. She’s lying upright in bed—sleeping—tightly clutching a pink and white stuffed bear in bony arms. Her eyes blink open—widening with fear when the sound of intrusion hits her ears. Her bottom lip begins to quiver but she doesn’t make a sound. 

“Hi Avelynn, I’m Eren—and this is my good friend, Dr. Levi,” Eren says, offering a smile as he approaches the uneasy girl, “we’re going to be your new nurse and doctor until Dr. Smith gets back.” 

“I want Erwin.” Avelynn says—voice frail like she hadn’t spoken in days. 

“Well, he’s on a special mission right now, and he’ll be back in a month or so,” Eren says, kneeling next to Avelynn’s bed and looking up at her, “do you think you can handle grumpy grumps over there and me for the time being?” Eren swings his head in Levi’s direction before offering a goofy smile to the little girl. 

Her head drops, while trying her best not to cry. “Okay.” She whispers, squeezing the bear to her chest. 

Eren sighs softly before standing upright and walking over to Levi—who’s busily flipping through Avelynn’s chart. 

“Her last few vital checks seem to be normal, but Dr. Smith left a note saying to keep an eye on her cardiac and respiratory functions.” Levi says, placing down the clipboard and walking over to the scared girl’s bedside. 

He takes the stethoscope from off his shoulders and puts the rubber buds in his ears. The girl tenses but allows him to place the instrument under her shirt and listen to her heart. The only sounds in the room are the chorus of monotone beeping from machines and light shuffling of Avelynn’s paper gown when Dr. Ackerman moves the instrument to listen to her lungs. Once he’s done, he pulls away and begins to place the stethoscope around his shoulders once more, but Avelynn stops him. 

“Erwin always checks Simon’s heart, too.” She says, her bright, coffee eyes lighting up as she holds out her bear. 

Levi huffs out a small smirk and puts the stethoscope buds back in his ears and listens to Simon’s heart and lungs. 

“Is he sick?” She asks, pulling the bear away once Levi’s finished. 

“No,” Levi says, patting the girl’s head, “he’s a very healthy bear. You must be taking good care of him.” 

Avelynn smiles, but her lips begin to falter. “What about me?” 

“Your heart and lungs are doing well, but I’m going to give you some pain medicine and steroids to help fight the cancer cells in your body.” Levi says as he gets up and begins writing on the clipboard he had previously put down. 

Eren unlocks the top left cabinet and pulls out a small bottle of liquid—he then searches through the locked drawer below it to find the right size needle. He places both on a small metal tray, before finding an alcohol wipe and tossing it onto the tray amongst the other things he collected. He then takes a different bottle of liquid and needle and fills it before administering it into Avelynn’s IV line. 

She lets out a quiet noise of displeasure and hugs her bear. 

Dr. Ackerman finishes writing his report and looks to Eren before walking to the box of gloves next to Avelynn’s heart monitor and pulling out a pair for himself. 

Avelynn lets out a slightly louder noise of discomfort as Levi fills the syringe and rolls over to her in his wheeled chair—carrying the opened alcohol wipe and the needle. “I don’t want it.” She whines, scrunching her shoulder to her cheek. 

“It’s just a small pinch, you can handle it.” Levi says, bunching up her sleeve with the hand holding the wipe. He carefully wipes down a patch of the girl’s shoulder before tossing the alcohol wipe in the trash so he can hold her arm in place. 

“No!” She cries louder, body trembling—bear long forgotten in her lap, “No!” 

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me okay,” Eren interrupts, making his way to the other side of her bed and picking up her bear to move it around, “that’s it, just focus on me.” 

Avelynn reaches out and grabs at Eren’s hand before squeezing it with her bony fingers. The feeding tube in her nose twitches as she sniffs back her tears. 

Dr. Ackerman takes his chance to inject the syringe and quickly throws the sharp in its designated bin. He puts a band-aid on the tiny puncture mark. “Good job, kid, that was really brave of you.” Levi monotones, peeling off his gloves and giving the girl another head pat. She turns, smiling softly at him and then Eren, before hiding the blush on her cheeks with her bear. 

Avelynn falls asleep as Eren and Levi finish filling out her chart and look over her vitals one last time. 

“Please tell me you thought she was the cutest little thing in the entire world, because if you don’t, I’m actually dumping you.” Eren says, hugging Levi as he quietly shuts the door to Avelynn’s room. 

“She wasn’t as much of a brat as I’d thought.” Levi annoyedly admits—flicking his boyfriend’s forehead before pulling him down for a quick kiss. 

“Levi! Remember what Dr. Smith said!” 

“The only brat around here watching is you.” Levi spits, yanking Eren down for another kiss. He pulls away and harshly pinches Eren’s nose before upper-cutting Eren’s mouth shut with his palm. 

“Ack!” Eren coughs before giggling lightly and planting a kiss atop his boyfriend’s head. They quietly walk to the next patient’s room. 

It’s only about hour into working pediatrics before Eren and Levi’s pagers go off again. 

“If it’s Hanji paging me to have lunch with them again, I’m going to kill that shitty four-eyes.” Levi hisses, rubbing his temples before looking at the buzzing device, “shit, it’s Nanaba.” 

Eren bolts after Levi—who’s running in the direction of her office. 

Nanaba’s in charge communication with ambulance arrival and departure—notifying surgeons, operation teams, physicians, and any other necessary residents of the condition and general information of the patient before arrival. 

“Dr. Levi, nurse Eren, over here!” A petite blue eyed woman with a blonde undercut, calls—waving her clipboard to catch their attention. 

“What is it Nanaba?” Eren asks, wiping his palms on green scrubs. 

“There’s an ambulance on its way—carrying 14 year old Ariah Feltner from Shiganshina. She has a gunshot wound through her abdomen, blunt force trauma to her ribcage and diaphragm from a car moving around 45mph, and a multitude of glass shards that could get caught in her bloodstream. Marco also requested there be x-rays of her wrist and back to check for fractures,” Nanaba says, hurriedly flipping through the notes she printed, “since you’re working pediatrics, we need you to do this surgery Dr. Ackerman. Dr. Smith would normally take child cases, but he isn’t here and no one else has your level of skill required for this procedure.” 

“Where are they headed?” Levi snaps, taking the charts from Nanaba. 

“OR 5—I’m going to get a nurse to notify your team—,” Nanaba stops, looking down at her pager, “shit they’re here already.” 

“Let’s go, Eren.” Levi says, running to the OR with Eren behind him. 

“Levi—,” Eren chokes, as he enters the sterilization room and begins changing into clean scrubs, “how does a 14 year old have a fucking gunshot wound in the stomach—do you think it was a suicide attempt?" 

“I—I don’t know. Kids are dumb.” Levi mumbles, as he dresses himself in a pair of sterilized scrubs. 

Eren begins to fix Levi’s cap and mask—while tying the back of Levi’s protective gown together—before fixing his own PPE. “If she did—” 

“Don’t worry about it Eren, try focusing on the important things—like saving her life.” Levi says gruffly—looking up at his boyfriend and letting his gaze soften. 

Eren’s eyes crinkle slightly—like he’s smiling underneath the mask covering his nose and mouth—and follows Levi into the operation room. 

The door opens, and the team of nurses around Ariah’s body fall silent. 

“Why the hell is she not under yet?” Levi barks, as he notices the girl shaking and pulling on the oxygen mask around her face. 

“The interns didn’t check for signs of shock.” A nurse grumbles—Oluo—as he presses on her chest to minimize bleeding. 

“Fucking interns. I fucking knew it.” Levi curses. 

Eren reaches up and flicks on the operating table’s overhead light, and the brightness illuminates the girl on the table—she shrinks away from it and her heart rate spikes on the monitor. 

“How’s her breathing?” Levi asks, feeling for a pulse and shining a pen light in the girl’s eyes.

“She’s stable with the oxygen mask, but will need to be hooked up to a respirator when she’s under, Dr. Ackerman.” Another nurse—Gunther—says as he finishes cutting off the bottom half of the girl’s tattered shirt. 

“Eld,” Levi shouts, “prepare an endotracheal tube so we can assure proper breathing when she’s out.” 

“Yes doctor!” Eld shouts over the beeping machines. 

Eren watches as the girl fights with her oxygen mask then tugs it off her face with a snap. The mask flies across the room and everyone goes silent. The girl throws her body up and claws at the bodies around her—trying to fling herself to the door. Eren supports the girl’s back as she sputters up blood and he shouts for someone to administer a small dose of Ativan to help calm her down. 

Petra quickly injects the medication into the girl’s IV line, and she falls limp in Eren’s arms—who lays her gently back on the table. 

“Alright kid, we’re going to put you under now; when you should have been out 10 minutes ago.” Dr. Ackerman says, staring down everyone in the OR. He mentions for the anesthesiologist—Mike—to place another oxygen mask on the girl who’s quietly weeping. “Let’s try to keep this one on, okay?” 

The monitor speeds up again, and the girl begins thrashing her head away from the mask. Petra readies another syringe, but Eren holds up his hand to stop her. If Petra administers more Ativan, the girl’s heart might give out with the amount of blood she loss and lack of oxygen in her body. 

With Mike having no luck getting the mask on the girl—Levi takes it from him and forces it onto the girl’s face—her hazel eyes helplessly pleading with him. 

She violently twists her head away, but Levi doesn’t budge—determined to save her even if he has to force her under anesthetic. 

“Mike, being prepping the Fentanyl.” Eren calls. The anesthesiologist begins drawing clear liquid into a needle and the girl panics. 

“Kid,” Levi snaps, looking down at her, “relax. You’re making this difficult; try to relax.” 

Then, she starts to cry. 

Levi’s gut constricts as he stares at the poor child tearing her face up with the glass in her arms—trying to smother her tears. “Mama, help me.” She cries. 

“Shh, kid, you’re okay.” Levi coos quickly trying to calm the girl. 

Eren watches as Levi takes the girl’s arm off her face and places it by her side. 

“I’m going to introduce the nitrous now; I promise it doesn’t hurt, okay?” Levi asks, waiting for a response. 

She shakes her head no. 

“Work with me kid. You want this to end right? Be in a nice soft bed? Let us help and I promise it’ll be over before you know it.” Levi sighs, restraining himself from wiping the tears off the girl’s bloodied cheeks. 

Eren’s breath hitches as he watches the girl grab Levi’s hand—still holding the mask on her face—and brings it to her cheek. 

“S-scared.” She chokes out. 

“Figures kid—you’ve been through hell today,” Levi says, then he pauses briefly, “ready?” 

Her lip trembles as she nods meekly. 

Levi nods back and gives a wave for Mike to induce the nitrous oxide. 

He does, then quickly injects a sedative into the girl’s IV line. “First dose of fentanyl administered.” He calls while scribbling down something on a chart. 

The girl’s eyes widen but Levi grabs her attention. 

“Hey, kid, look at me, okay?” Levi gently pinches her chin and turns her toward him, drawing her attention away from the needle. “Do me a favor okay, kid? Close your eyes and count back from ten, yeah? Can you do that for me?” 

“10…9…” They say together. Eren lets warmth pool in his gut as he sees the girl’s body begin to relax. 

“Good.” Levi mumbles to himself while looking at her vitals. 

“8…7…” They continue and she opens her eyes, but Levi nods at her to close them again. 

She closes them tightly and continues on her own. “6…5…” 

Mike calls over her, saying “second dose of fentanyl administered” as he injects the second syringe. 

The girl’s lip quivers as she chokes out “4…3…” and her facial muscles relax. 

They all wait, and the heart monitor begins to slow its beeping. 

“Goodnight Ariah.” Eren hears Levi mumble, before the doctor places a gloved hand on her neck and feels her pulse slowly decrease. 

“The tube is ready.” Eld says, finishing hooking up the tube to the respirator and giving the device to Levi for him to insert. 

“Alright team,” Levi says, “let’s get this operation underway.” 


	8. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariah *actually* meets Levi and Eren—yeet 
> 
> Basic trigger warning:
> 
> -Medical things like usual  
> -Mild blood and gore  
> -Panic attacks  
> -Uhhh BIG PANIC ATTACK  
> -Flashbacks/disassociation  
> -Hallucinations (not graphic just lowkey sad)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOP- almost 150 hits??? Okay??? ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪
> 
> I love each and everyone of you!! So thanks for reading!! (I edited chapter 5 I think?? So it’s a lil more realistic but NOT REALLY CAUSE FUCK THAT (*^ω^*) lmao)
> 
> Once again—love y’all! (//∇//) <3

The voices around me are cloudy and unfamiliar. Did Dad invite his pig friends to play poker or something and they all got too drunk to leave? I shift in my bed but its comfier than usual. “Oh shit,” I groan out. If I don’t get myself up, I’m going to be late for school again. I rub my heavily swollen eyes and I move my head to look at my alarm clock. Weird, its been replaced with a heart monitor and IV drip. There’s a nightstand on the other side of my bed—it looks nothing like mine. I lift my head and see various medical tools atop its surface. “What the—“ I question but I’m interrupted by a coughing fit into a mask over my face. I pull at the strings to untie it, but I hear a breath hitch and my hands freeze. The talking stops and bodies shift in my direction.

“Wasn’t she supposed to be out for at least another 2 hours?” 

Who is that? I don’t recognize that voice. 

“Yeah she was, but Levi did say she might wake up earlier than expected—might startle herself out of what she’s on.” 

Where the fuck am I? What do they mean by ‘what she’s on’? 

“Do you think we should give her more Ativan? You saw how she was—” 

Ativan—like the medication, Ativan? Am I being drugged? 

“No. We should wait for Dr. Ackerman’s instructions.” 

I roll my eyes and groan—attempting to sit up. I can barely lift my head—the drugs in my system making it hard to move. I continue to pull at the mask on my face but someone shuffles to my side and gently lays my hand back down. “Let’s not touch that, okay?” A woman’s voice says. 

Dad doesn’t have any female friends. 

I slowly blink the fog from my eyes and look up. It’s the same nurse with the strawberry colored hair. 

“Yes, I suppose its strawberry colored.” She giggles while pulling up my covers and tucking the exposed corners under the mattress. 

I attempt to form words and stumble out an apology for speaking out of turn, but she puts a finger to her lips and silences me. “Shhh, sweetheart, don’t talk okay? You’ll only strain yourself. I’m going to tell the doctor you’re awake and he’ll decide what to do next.” 

I swallow hard as she leaves, watching the two other nurses follow her out. Images of my Dad flood my mind and I slowly recall pieces of what happened to me. 

The door snaps open and my Dad stumbles in. He throws the brown liquor bottle that hung loosely in his hand at my head. 

“How did you get in here?” I yell. 

His top lip curls as he says nothing and rips me out of my bed onto the tile. 

I start crying—kicking his legs as he looms over me—screaming for him to leave. 

He barks out a harsh laugh before bending down and slapping my cheek. He reaches into his old leather holster before pulling out his gun and shooting me. 

Hot blood clouds my senses. “I’m sorry,” I say between sobs, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry dad—I’ll be good. I’ll be good this time.” 

My vision clears and I’m on the floor—door closed and no sign of my Dad. My IV’s tube lays tangled around my legs and dripping its contents onto the floor’s surface. I pull my legs to my chest—yanking the IV to the floor. The sheets and comforter that were once neatly tucked in, are sprawled in a mess—pooling around the legs of the bed. My lip begins to tremble, and I pull the oxygen mask off of my face and place it on the floor next to me. I wipe my tears—chest quivering with every uneasy breath. 

The door opens and my entire body tenses. I scramble to back myself into a corner—carelessly knocking over equipment. 

“—she seemed very relaxed right before I left and I’m sure—oh god you poor thing.” The strawberry haired nurse says while rushing over to me cowering in the corner. 

“Kid is going to rip her stitches.” A nurse spits. 

The strawberry haired nurse ignores him—bending down to inch closer to the huddling mess in the corner. She was never scary before—her brown eyes like chocolate and her cheeks a rosy color—she had the softest features. 

I kick at her—throwing my arm up onto the nightstand and grabbing at anything sharp—hand landing on a pair of medical scissors. 

I let out a distressed noise and my hands are shaking uncontrollably—barely able to grip the metal object. I hold the tip toward her, and swallow hard. 

Her chocolate eyes melt slightly as she carefully inches closer. “Here sweetheart, give me that.” She reaches her hand out a little too suddenly—I slash at her palm and a thin stream of blood drips down her arm. She looks at me unfazed. 

“Petra,” A man says pushing his way through the small crowd of people in the doorway, “disengage.” Petra looks back and opens her mouth to protest but quickly shuts it, getting up to join a nurse who begins to dress her wound. 

“Alright kid,” The man says, pulling over a chair a few feet in front of me before sitting down and crossing his left leg over his right knee, “you can be scared all you want but you’re not going to attack anyone on my team, got it?” 

He’s clearly a doctor—dressed in navy blue scrubs and a white lab coat. His black undercut compliments his piercing blue-gray eyes. He props his arm up on the back of his chair and the bags under his eyes suggest he needs the coffee he’s holding in his other hand. I stare at him—eyes wide with terror—ready to shrink up into a timid ball and hide. 

“So, kid, there’s two ways we can play this out, alright?” He starts, “one, you put down the scissors and get back into bed where we’ll address your cuts and re-stitch you; because apparently the first time wasn’t enough to hold you together. On the other hand, there’s two, which is where you put up a fight, make things difficult, and I fix you up whether you like it or not.” He pauses and takes a sip of his coffee. “So, which will it be?” 

I sit in silence and he never takes his eyes off of me; even when he sips his coffee again, nodding for me to take my time. I quickly realize this is the same doctor from the OR who calmed me down. 

I look away from his stare and try to let go of the scissors—but my hands won’t let me. A distressed noise slips through parted lips as I try to form words with my parched throat. 

I’m shaking worse than before—pain rattling throughout my body. Tired, tired, tired—my brain chants—but my eyes remain wide and vigilant. Blood pumps through my veins—turning my face pinker the more panicked I get. Tired, scream, tired, run. I try to choke out words again, but they get stuck on my tongue. Tired, tired, tired—give up. I let go of the scissors. 

An ambulance siren blares outside of the room—catching me off guard. I claw at my skin trying to get the cotton straps away from me. The siren gets louder—letting out a deafening scream. I kick the scissors away and scramble to get under the bed—where its safe—but a nurse sees his chance and grabs me before I can make it under. 

“Let go, let go!” I scream, while one rubs my back and two others lift me onto the bed. They attempt to re-insert the IV drip but can’t hold me tight enough to get a clear shot at my vein. “I’ll be good, I promise, don’t shoot me please, I’ll be good!” 

“We’re not going to hurt you, hon.” The strawberry haired nurse coos, pulling the hair stuck to my cheek and in my mouth away—tucking it behind my ear. 

“N-no—cold—no—h-help—stop, stop!” I choke out. 

“Give her a full dose of Valium and see how her body reacts.” The doctor says while sipping his coffee. 

I continue to scream. 

“Try to hold still, kiddo.” A nurse says, needle in hand. 

I scream louder—begging. “I’ll be good—I’m sorry—I’ll be good, I promise.” 

There’s a small prick in the fat of my shoulder—sending chills down my spine. I rip my arm away, but the syringe is already emptied. 

“That’s it, good job.” A nurse praises, trying to press on the blood beading from the puncture. 

“Let go of me! Just let me go, damn it,” I wail—trying to squirm free, slowly feeling a numbness spread in the tips of my toes and the pads of my fingers, “Please—please!” 

“Should we administer more Dr. Ackerman?” One of the nurses asks, gently rubbing small circles into my shoulder. 

I sink into the body I’m propped up against—quietly weeping. 

“No, that should be good. You’re all dismissed except for you, Jaeger.” 

A low whimper gets caught in my throat as I’m left against my will with Dr. Ackerman’s cold stare and a gentle looking nurse in evergreen scrubs. He has shaggy brown hair that just brushes his eyebrows and eyes that hold fragments of the ocean inside them. He gives me a smile and continues checking my monitors; I look away. 

I let out a soft groan as I try to sit up, but my body is close to collapsing. I start to cough—rolling onto my side. Once the coughing subsides, I pull the one blanket left on the bed over my body and cover my face. 

The sink starts running and I can hear hands being washed. My only guess that they’re going to start stitching me up. I let out another hopeless groan and start to tremble even though the valium in my system is fighting against it. “I want to go home,” I whisper to myself, and the faucet is turned off, “I just want to go home.” 

I hear them exchange words, but I can’t understand what’s being said. 

“Hey,” The nurse says, lightly pulling on the blanket over my head, “we’re going to get started okay? Do you want to come out from under there?” 

“No.” I say in a hushed whisper. 

The nurse sighs, rubbing my shoulder, “Alright then, well we’re going to have to fix you up at some point so let’s pull this sheet down. It can still cover your legs if that’ll be more comfortable for you.” 

I peek my eyes out from under the sheet right as Dr. Ackerman fills up an uncomfortably hefty syringe in the background. I instantly shrink into fetal position under the covers and ignore the searing pain in my gut. 

Heavy footsteps startle me, and something rolls and gently hits the metal frame of the bed. Something is lifted off a metal tray and there’s little -clink-clink- like someone flicking a piece of plastic. “Alright kid, this is just some Morphine and it’s going to make you feel relaxed, okay?” Dr. Ackerman says as he pulls at the sheet over my body. He pulls it all the way off, and I’m left shivering in a pool of my own blood seeping through the stitches on my abdomen. 

I shake my head and scrunch my body tighter. 

“Give me your arm, kid.” 

I shake my head again. “My name is Ari—not ‘kid’.” I say. 

“I know that kid, your name is Ariah Feltner, now give me your arm.” Dr. Ackerman repeats, grabbing my wrist and pulling it toward him. He fights my uncooperative strength and holds down my forearm while readying to insert the syringe. My tremors start to get worse and my heart-rate spikes. I slap my hand over the vein the doctor had prepped and hold tight so he can’t get to it. Nurse Jaeger carefully makes his way to the other side of the bed and pulls my hand wrapped around my vein away—holding it in his own. 

“Would you like me to sit next to you while Dr. Ackerman does what he needs to do?” he asks, smiling at me. 

I glare at him and let out a quiet snarl but squeeze his hand in fear of him letting go regardless. 

He offers a gentle squeeze as reassurance before carding his fingers through my knotted hair. I blink my eyes in shock but don’t reject the gesture. 

The tip of the needle nudges my skin. 

“No—don’t—I’ll be good—no, stop!” I beg, trying to pull my arm away from Dr. Ackerman. 

“It doesn’t hurt that bad, kid, relax. Despite what you think I’m not doing this to torture you.” He says with a heavy sigh, giving my hand an awkward pat before holding my wrist and readjusting the needle. 

Tears stream down my face as I squeeze the nurse’s poor hand and Dr. Ackerman injects the Morphine into my vein. My hand falls limp in the nurse’s grip. I stop holding my breath. 

“Good job kid,” Dr. Ackerman says, removing the syringe from my vein, “now lay on your back so I can re-stitch you.” 

He pulls on latex gloves after washing his hands again and nurse Jaeger does the same. My brain begins to fog over, and I keep telling myself to fight back but my body refuses to move. I hear them talking again but can’t hear or see anything more than a few feet away. 

Suddenly, a thick cloud of disinfectant swarms my nose, and my abdomen feels like its bleeding ice. I put the back of my wrist to my nose to block the smell but the bandage on it smells worse—like bloody cotton. 

I stretch my arms up and try to rub away the tiredness in my eyes. 

“Don’t do that, kid, unless you want these stitches to rip again.” Dr. Ackerman scoffs, continuing to sew together my stomach. 

I turn my head to the right—trying not to move my whole body—and my mother is holding my hand. She runs her callused fingers through my stringy hair and lightly kisses my bandaged forehead—her long black hair brushing my cheek. My chest racks with sobs and I can’t stop myself. “Mama.” I say, reaching my hand out—but it goes through her transparent body. “No, no don’t leave—please,” I yell, panicking, “Mama, not now, please don’t, don’t go.” 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Nurse Jaeger says, pushing my shoulders down and pressing on my chest so I don’t move, “try to stay still okay? You’re doing so well.” 

Dr. Ackerman is still stitching me up and the nurse looks at me with worry. 

I squeeze my eyes shut and try my best to fall asleep—her face still burned into my mind. 

*Mini time skip* 

“Alright, kid, I’m finished.” Dr. Ackerman says while pulling off his gloves and throwing them onto the metal tray next to him. 

I open my eyes and wonder how long I’d been asleep. I rub my eyes and sit up, but my body whines and I lay back down. 

Dr. Ackerman turns to Eren and snaps his fingers to get his attention. “I’m going to have Petra come in and change her clothes, but before I leave, I want you to write this down.” He says to nurse Jaeger, and the nurse heads over to the computer next to the sink. “Write down that I want to come in tomorrow and do a full physical and after have a psychiatrist come in and test for PTSD, anxiety disorders, and ODD just to be safe. Hopefully that won’t take too long because I want a full body scan so we can tell where the shrapnel is that we missed. Got that?” 

“Yes doctor.” The nurse says, hitting save and shutting down the computer. 

Dr. Ackerman nods and before I have time to protest, he inserts a syringe into my IV line and my vision fades to black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I end literally every chapter with her [Ariah] falling asleep lmao.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


	9. Headaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariah wakes up **again** and has to deal with a couple of bitches before que overprotective Levi and Eren
> 
> Trigger Warning:
> 
> -Talk of abuse  
> -Talk of mental illness and health   
> -Talk of death and trauma  
> -Talk of nightmares  
> -Bad nurses and interns (interns are good people just Levi hates them so I made them bad lol)   
> -More medical stuff  
> -Blood / pain  
> -Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I EDIT AND EDIT AND EDIT AND EDIT AND EDIT THIS CHAPTER AND ITS STILL JUST NOT HAVING IT SO HERE WE ARE IM SORRY I FAILED YOU ALL T^T
> 
> Also ~170 hits~ omg—oh my god!!!! Like,,,,,,I never thought so many people would read this,,,,,,like I mean I have more popular fics than this but YALL MAKE ME SO HAPPY T^T Im so glad people read this—like it makes my day lol <3
> 
> Love y’all and stay safe!! <3 <3

I wake up and I can’t clearly remember anything that happened the day before. My head is pounding, and I attempt to sit up but my body cringes at the thought of moving in the slightest. I rub my eyes and squeeze my temples trying to soothe a massive headache crawling it’s way down my spine. I roll onto my side and pull the pillow from under my head and squish it onto my face. This isn’t the first splitting headache I’ve ever dealt with but this one harshly reminds me of ones I would get a few days after a beating.

_…oh yeah._

__I let out a low groan and tuck my legs into my chest. My skull continues to drill holes into my brain as the door opens and people enter._ _

__“She’s right in here.” A nurse says and the door shuts with a click._ _

__I use all of my strength to sit up and put the pillow behind my back again. I look up and there are two people in the room that I’ve never meet before or seen in the hospital. “Hello,” the man says while pulling over a chair next to my bed and adjusting his glasses, “you must be Ariah Feltner.” I nod, and he gives me a fake smile._ _

__“Nice to meet you, I’m Dr. Zeke Yeager and this is my assistant, Pieck.”_ _

__The woman next to him gives a small smile and a little wave; I stare back._ _

__Dr. Yeager flips through the papers on the clipboard in his hand and clears his throat. “I’m a licensed psychiatrist here at the Wings of Freedom Research Hospital and Care Facility. I was sent here with my assistant to evaluate you for—let’s see here—PTSD, anxiety disorders, and ODD.” He says while peering over his glasses._ _

__“Let’s get this over with.” I say—my voice pitifully hoarse—while I busy myself by rubbing my pounding temples._ _

__“Alright then,” he says while stroking his blond beard and readjusting his glasses, “it says here in the police report there was a noise complaint and when authorities arrived on the scene they had to forcefully enter the residence. There, they found a fourteen year old girl assaulted, presumably by the suspect—the victim’s biological father—and on the brink of passing out. Is that statement correct?” I sigh heavily and nod._ _

__“It also says here that after one of the officers on call took a step forward to examine the girl’s body, she was shot in the abdomen by a home-owned Glock 17 that is now in the custody of the police for evidence. Is that correct as well?”_ _

__I run my fingers over the bandages wrapped around my stomach. I suddenly feel hot and subtly squirm in my bed with growing displeasure._ _

__The doctor notices and writes on the clipboard in his hand. “Have you ever felt like hurting yourself?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“How about anyone else?”_ _

__“No,” I sigh—wanting to wrap my hands around Dr. Yaeger’s neck and suffocate him, “I haven’t.”_ _

__“Well, that takes care of the safety evaluation,” he chuckles darkly, “now let’s move onto the—interesting—bit.”_ _

__A cold shiver runs down my spine._ _

__“How long have you been experiencing abuse from your father?”_ _

__“He’s never abused me before; I don’t know why you’d say that.” I say looking past his intense copper eyes._ _

__He strokes his beard again and checks off something on his clipboard. “I see, let me rephrase that then. Has he ever done anything to physically or emotionally harm you in anyway?” He asks, “for example, verbally degrading you, hitting you, touching you when you don’t want to be touched?”_ _

__I noticeably start chewing on my lip. “I dunno, probably? He started drinking after mom left and he gets pissy when he’s drunk.”_ _

__“And when did your mother die?”_ _

__“3 and a half years ago.”_ _

__“I see, I’m sorry for your loss,” he says—voice dripping in false sympathy, “when did your father become an alcoholic.”_ _

__“Like 3 years ago?” I say—wondering if it had really been that long._ _

__“When did he start abusing you?”_ _

__“He doesn’t abuse me—I already told you that.” I quickly retort._ _

__Dr. Yeager quickly writes something on his clipboard before impatiently tapping his pen. “You’re contradicting yourself—Ariah.”_ _

__“He would only yell—he never hit me!” I snap._ _

__“So the only time he’s assaulted you was a few days ago?”_ _

__“Yes!” I bark, then my shoulders slump foreword, “well, no.”_ _

__“How long ago did he start hitting you?” Dr. Yeager asks sharply, quietly taking notes._ _

__“This year.” I mumble._ _

__“When exactly?” He says without changing the intensity or tone of his voice—and still not looking up from his notes. The bastard is starting to creep me out._ _

__“I don’t fucking know, like January—so 4 months ago.”_ _

__“Were these assaults committed sober or under the influence of alcohol and or drugs?”_ _

__“Yes—no—I-I don’t know!? Can we just stop with these questions?” I ask, messaging my head with my palm, “it’s giving me a headache.”_ _

__Dr. Yeager stares blankly. His pen stops moving, and he looks up at me._ _

__I close my eyes and soothe my headache by digging the tips of my nails into my scalp._ _

__Dr. Yeager continues to write, pauses, then continues—all while his assistant stays completely silent._ _

__“I’ve been told that you’ve had numerous flashbacks while you’ve been here—do you usually have them at home?”_ _

__I open my mouth to say something snarky, but fall silent. “No. I don’t.”_ _

__“What about nightmares?”_ _

__A growl rumbles in my throat. “Yeah, I guess.”_ _

__“How long have you been having these nightmares?” Dr. Yeager asks, flipping to a new page._ _

__“2 years.”_ _

__“I see, do these nightmares incorporate—fears?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“How about your parents?”_ _

__“No.” I groan._ _

__“Your father’s abuse and excessive drinking?”_ _

__“I already said no you prick!” I bite back—pitifully crushing myself into a ball._ _

__“Your mother dy—?”_ _

__“Shut up—shut the fuck up! Can’t you see you’re fucking bothering me?!” I cry, covering my ears and closing my eyes as angry tears well at the corners._ _

__Suddenly I’m drowning in a lake of alcohol. I’m yelling and clawing at the ball and chain around my ankle, but I can’t get it off. I see my Dad holding my mother’s neck in an arm lock with a gun pointing at her head. She’s crying. Tears fall down her face like tiny shooting stars. She’s smiling but guilt fills her eyes and my Dad pulls the trigger. I scream and claw at his hands to let her go but he won’t. Her limp body is tied to his waist with the rope used to make a noose. Glass sprouts from my hands every time my tears fall. I continue to sink to the bottom of the lake—the water around me filled with blood._ _

__“Ariah, Ariah, can you hear me?”_ _

__I pry open my eyes and hear someone screaming bloody murder—I’m quick to realize it’s me. Dr. Yeager is leaning over my shaking body on the ground that’s being restrained by nurses. “Let go of me!” I scream, trying to slide out of the nurses’ grip. “They’re going to kill me, help, they’re going to kill me!” I yell while hyperventilating—smacking my head on the ground, hoping—just hoping—that I can knock myself out._ _

__A nurse grabs a sedative and is about to save me from myself—but Dr. Yeager stops her. “No,” he says, watching me thrash recklessly on the floor, “keep her awake.”_ _

__A nurse attempts to cover my mouth but my jaw snaps down—hard—and I get hit in the head for doing so. I try to yell louder but my head hurts too much to focus. I attempt to throw a punch, but I miss—not like I could see past my tears anyway. I’m no match for the people holding me to the floor—all I can do is yell and hope someone hears._ _

__Suddenly the door to my room slams against the wall—rattling everything._ _

__“What the fuck is going on in here.” Growls a voice—I recognize it as Dr. Ackerman’s._ _

__I continue to cry for help and a familiar set of eyes wrestle into my view._ _

__Nurse Jaeger tries to grab onto my hand, as he tells me everything will be okay, but the other nurses fight against him while still pinning me down._ _

__“Can’t you see she’s dangerous?” One yells to Nurse Jaeger._ _

__I begin to quietly sob—body wholeheartedly giving up._ _

__Dr. Ackerman yanks a nurse off of me and stares down each of the nurses who all freeze and cower just by looking at him. “I want all of you to let go of my patient and go see Dr. Hanji and tell her what each of you have just done or so help me god I’m going to make sure all of you shit your pants every time you see me for the rest of your fucking lives,” Dr. Ackerman says and snaps his fingers, “go.”_ _

__Instantly all of the nurses hustle out of the room in the same direction._ _

__“And you two,” Dr. Ackerman snarls, grabbing the back of Dr. Yeager’s dress shirt and Pieck’s blouse, “I want a word with you bastards.”_ _

__The door closes and nurse Jaeger runs over to me but hesitates to touch me. I curl up into a ball—protecting my stomach. Tears burn my cheeks, but I don’t move to wipe them. Nurse Jaeger shuffles closer to my body—hand just grazing my side. His touch sends jarring pain into my gut and I begin to cry harder._ _

__“Shhh, no one is going to hurt you, I promise.” He whispers, brushing my hair away from my face. His thumb wipes across my cheeks and gently messages my temples._ _

__“Nurse Jaeger.” I whimper._ _

__“Call me Eren, okay?” Eren says pulling me out of my huddled state and draping my body so my head is in his lap._ _

__I try to calm myself but only apologies bubble out._ _

__“I’m sorry they did this, Ariah.” Eren whispers to me as he unprofessionally rests his hand on my head._ _

__The door opens and Dr. Ackerman storms in and furiously writes on a clipboard lying next to the sink._ _

__“Levi—err I mean—Dr. Ackerman, please calm down!” Eren yells worriedly to the fuming doctor._ _

__“I can’t believe they sent that fucker to do the evaluation. I especially can’t believe they sent interns near my patient.” Dr. Ackerman (or Levi) says to himself while slamming down his pen. “I knew this would fucking happen that’s why I wanted to be here during it. This is also why I wanted it done after her exam.” He snarls, his eyes like fire as he hits his fist on the marble countertop. “Jaeger,” Dr. Ackerman says snapping his head up and turning to look at me lying scrunched up on the floor—head in Eren’s lap, “Go to Hanji’s office and make sure those bastard nurses are never seen near my patients again.”_ _

__“Yes doctor.” Eren says as he lifts my head off his lap and hooks his arms under my armpits to carry me to my bed._ _

__“Don’t leave” I say, half pleading half telling—grabbing onto the corner of his shirt and pushing my weight into him. He ignores my protests and effortlessly places me onto the bed and pries my hands off of him._ _

__“It’s okay, I’ll be right back. Don’t worry, Dr. Ackerman is going to take good care of you while I’m gone.” He says with a smile, beginning to hook me back up to the machines around my bed. He pats my head once he’s done—accidentally angering my headache. I wince—but I don’t think either of them noticed me do so._ _

__Eren opens the door to leave and gives me one last smile before exiting and closing the door behind him. My hands grip the sheets and ball into tight fists. I look over to Levi, and he’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and staring into space. He snarls at the window and takes off his stethoscope from draping around his neck and walks over to me. “I’m going to check your heart.”_ _

__I flip onto my stomach to protect myself while pulling up the sheets. “But the machine is right over there.” I say pointing at the monitor._ _

__“No shit, kid,” He says rolling his deep-set eyes and putting the stethoscope in his ears, “there are other things I need to check that don’t pick up on that machine; now flip over.”_ _

__“I think I’ll stay like this.”_ _

__“You’ve got fire kid but it’s not helpful when I’m trying to get shit done—so flip over.”_ _

__I flare my nostrils and reluctantly do as he asks. I roll onto my side and hunch my legs up—so they’re close to touching my chest. Hot blood seeps into the bandages around my stomach. He slips the stethoscope down my shirt and it’s cool against my skin._ _

__“Alright kid, breathe in.”_ _

__I shakily breathe in._ _

__“And out.”_ _

__I let out a pained groan and rub my temples to soothe the brewing ache in my brain._ _

__Levi raises his eyebrow at me, but his tone of voice doesn’t change with his suspicion. “Alright, again—In, good job, now out.”_ _

__I breath out and instantly go into a coughing fit. I sit up but that only makes the coughing worse. I cover my mouth and spit up blood into my hands. “Sorry.” I whisper, flinching away from him._ _

__“It’s alright kid, just move to the side of the bed and I can help you.” He says putting the stethoscope around his neck and pulling a pair of gloves on._ _

__I stare at him. “Aren’t you going to punish me?” I ask sheepishly._ _

__He looks at me long and hard. “Why the fuck would I do that?”_ _

__I look away and shrug—relieved he doesn’t pry._ _

__He moves over to me—making his movements slow and predictable—before gently grabbing under my arm and placing his hand between my shoulder blades to direct me forward. Pain shoots its way down my spine and up into my brain, but I maintain a straight face, so Levi hopefully won’t notice. He turns on the sink and I let the cool water rinse the blood off my tender hands. He pumps some soap into my hands and I gingerly wash and dry them. Levi then guides me back to the bed and I sit down—completely gassed. He wets a paper towel and wipes the blood off my chin and the corners on my mouth. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he throws out the used paper towel and peels off his gloves before putting on new ones._ _

__“I’m going to change your bandages. You didn’t rip your stitches but if you keep curling yourself up like that you might.” He scolds me._ _

__“Sorry.”_ _

__“Stop apologizing kid,” he sighs, “arms up.”_ _

__I comply._ _

__He grabs medical scissors off the counter, and I tense up—whimpering quietly._ _

__“It won’t hurt as long as you keep your arms up.” He scoffs—beginning to snip off the soiled bandages. He grabs a wound disinfectant and soaks the new bandages in it. “This might burn.” He says, wrapping my torn stomach in new cloth._ _

__I bite my lip and hold back tears. “Stings.” I laugh out nervously._ _

__“I know kid, I’m sorry.”_ _

__Once he’s done taping the bandages down, he takes off his gloves and I lower my arms. He smiles a small smile gives me an awkward shoulder pat. “Uh, good job, kid.”_ _

__He smiles awkwardly and I blush lightly—covering my smile with my arm._ _

__He then puts the stethoscope to his ears again and sits down next to my bed. “Lean forward, I’m going to listen to your lungs now.”_ _

__I lean forward trying to hide my grimace and he lifts up my paper shirt (which is the most uncomfortable thing in the world to wear I might add) and places the icy instrument onto my back. When he’s finished with the first side, he moves the stethoscope to the other side of my back and accidentally taps my spine. I let out a yelp and instantly put a hand over my mouth—regretting I ever made a sound. Shit._ _

__After listening to the other side of my back, Levi takes off the stethoscope and rests it around his neck. “What hurts?” He asks staring at me, but I refuse to look him in the eye._ _

__“Nothing.” I whisper. My head pounds._ _

__“What hurts kid?” He asks again, his voice grave._ _

__“I said nothing.” I whisper, nearly inaudible. The ache in my brain travels quickly down my spine._ _

__None of his facial features budge and he’s definitely not believing my lie. “Are you sure this doesn’t hurt?” He asks, tapping one of my vertebrae harder and my spine instantly explodes with pain. I stick my nails into my skull and pull at my hair. I let out a low whine and look up at his cold eyes. “That’s what I thought,” he says rubbing his thumb down his jawline, “how long has that been hurting you?”_ _

__“All day.” I croak out—my throat feeling suddenly parched. “But I’m fine! I promise, it’s not that bad I—”_ _

__“Quiet. Let me think for a second.” Levi snaps, he closes his eyes and concentrates for a moment and then reaches a conclusion. “I’m going to schedule you for a CT scan later today to get proper imaging of your spinal cord, brain stem, and skull.”_ _

__“But the pain only started today it’s probably just something super minor—” I protest, but Dr. Ackerman puts up his finger and shushes me._ _

__“I’ll have Jaeger bring you down—but as of now, get some rest.” He says, eying me and I know there’s no point in arguing. I flare my nostrils and whip the scattered sheets over my head, cursing under my breath._ _

__The door opens and I hear a soft chuckle before the door closes again._ _


	10. Stuffed Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CT scans and then some.
> 
> TW:
> 
> -medical stuff like always  
> -restraints (just to hold Ariah onto the table for the CT scan--its normal to do this)  
> -panic attacks  
> -hallucinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm back!
> 
> 2020 has been literal shit so I hope this update will brighten your day! 
> 
> Stay safe everyone and I love you all <3 <3 <3 ^-^

“Are you ready?” Eren asks after interrupting my sleep and I shift in disapproval under the covers. He pulls the sheet off my face and holds it so I can’t bury myself. He unfolds a wheelchair and pushes it in front of me. He gives me a gentle smile and extends his arm so I can use it as a hand hold to get out of bed.

“I-I don’t want to do this.” I say staring at the wheelchair—refusing to move.

“It’s not that bad—I promise.” He says giving me a weak smile—knowing that won’t convince me. He removes my IV line and takes off all of the wires taped to my skin. He takes my hand and gives me a little tug to get up. “Come on, let’s not keep them waiting.” He sticks his other arm under my armpit and practically lifts me up and places me into the chair. 

He starts to push me toward the exit, and I lean to the left and grab onto the metal bedframe. “I told you I can’t do this.”

“Ari,” Eren says placing his hand on my shoulder, “Let go of the bed. I promise everything will be okay.”

My forehead breaks out into a cold sweat as my hands slip off and Eren pushes me out the door.

My hands grip the arm rests as I breathe uneasily. I mumble little protests to myself while I clench and unclench my fingers—never looking up. I plot my many escape plans that I’ll never act on but keep them stored in the back of my mind. I bite the inside of my cheek trying to hide my fear and hot tears prick at my eyes. My face is pink and rage tips the scale away from fear so it’s no longer in control.

The temperature turns from cold to freezing as I’m pushed through a set of heavy doors and enter a room with a giant machine. I hold my breath, hearing only the screaming in my mind. I look up just as a thin needle is inserted into my arm, followed by a second. I tense up then unwillingly sink into the chair. “Sorry sweetheart, we just need to take extra precautions.” A woman’s voice coos, and I look up to see the strawberry haired nurse—Petra.

I let my head drop with a quiet sigh. 

“Did she give you any trouble, Eren?” Petra asks while her and Eren lift me up and place me onto a cold metal table.

“Not at all.” Eren says with a smile—keeping quiet about my unwillingness to go.

“We better keep this one restrained, so she won’t move during the procedure.” A nurse scoffs, and he and another nurse strap me down and Petra slides a plush looking pillow under my head. I don’t fight back, and the nurses all give me the same surprised look—even Eren.

I’m glad my greasy hair is sprawled over my face to hide the obvious fear displayed. The machine turns on and I’m pulled inside its mouth. My foot twitches and the butterflies in my stomach turn to wasps. I want to throw up but the downers in my system won’t let me—hell they won’t let me do anything except turn my head a little. The nausea comes in waves—each feeling like a punch to my gut.

The doctors and nurses ask me to do things and I do them without thinking. I just want this hell to end—I can’t believe I forgot I was claustrophobic.

*Mini time skip* 

The table begins to move back out of the machine, and something snaps inside of me. I’m back to my old self—wrestling with the straps and adrenaline buzzes in my system. I take a moment to compose myself and quickly work on tensing and relaxing my muscles against the straps so they loosen, and I can squirm my way out. 

“Hey now, what happened to the sweet girl who didn’t give us any trouble.” Petra says, while rubbing circles into my shoulder and thumb rubbing my exposed wrist. I try to relax but my body cringes with panic as the hand on my shoulder grows claws.

My eyes glue to the floor and the nurses around me grew uneasy. Eren re-enters the room and pushes a wheelchair next to the table. “Petra, do you mind helping me?” Eren asks, his eyes watching me. Petra silently complies and guides me to my feet. As she leads me to the wheelchair my heart sinks. Mama. I want to run and hide.

I twist my wrist out of Petra’s grip and my bare feet smack the icy tile. I ram my shoulder into the heavy door and crash into the person who was about to enter. “Easy kid, easy.” He says, restraining my arms to my sides so I’m immobile. I kick at his legs, but they hold strong, so I soon give up.

“I want to go home, let me go.” I whimper, my voice lost in his white lab coat. 

“I know.” Dr. Ackerman sighs, holding my frail body close to his. His warm minty breath lingers under my nose and mixes with his fresh spritz of cologne.

The metal door swings open and Petra and Eren come running out with the wheelchair in tow. Eren lets out a relieved laugh before giving one of his signature smiles. “Thank goodness you were there Dr. Ackerman. Come on Ari, let’s get you back to your room, okay kiddo?”

Levi pushes me gently into the wheelchair and pats my head before looking back at Eren. “I’m going to Hanji’s office to develop the scans—I’ll be back in a little. Give her a low dose of Morphine for pain and extra fluids because she’s dehydrated.”

“You got it!” Eren says, I can feel him looking at me as I stare at the floor.

The ride back to my hospital room is uneventful—not that I’m complaining—and Eren offers soothing words every few minutes. 

My body aches in every place imaginable—I need to stop using all of my energy trying to run off and fight back all the damn time.

Eren lifts me out of the wheelchair and places me in my bed. He begins to stick the monitor wires onto my skin and then readies the I.V drip.

“Eren, no.” I whine, tucking my arm under the sheets. 

“Ari, please don’t do this.” He says, rubbing my shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” I yell, flinching away from him—my shoulders hunching to help protect my neck. 

He looks at me like he wants to say something but can’t. He sighs, absently rubbing his nape. “What can I do for you to trust me, Ari?”

“Leave.”

He sighs again while gently pulling at the sheets wrapped snug around me. 

“No!” I protest, but the rubber tie is secure around my upper arm and a needle is forced into my vein. 

I try to rip it out but Eren restrains my free hand (which isn’t hard because it’s in a cast) and injects a syringe into my I.V bag. “Just some morphine.” He says, patting my hand before tucking me back into the covers he took from me.

My vision goes groggy and sobs hiccup their way through my weak body.

“Shh, it’s okay Ari, shh.” Eren coos, sitting on the side of my bed and wiping away silent tears from my flushed cheeks.

“Don’t make me go to sleep.” I whine, blood pounding in my ears. 

“No, no, Ari, don’t worry. Morphine is a painkiller that just makes you feel a little silly that’s all.” He says, forcing a small smile, trying to relax my aching body.

A low whine rips through my throat and Eren tries harder to calm me down.

“I need something soft.” I whisper—clutching my icy blankets. The lack of the stuffed animal I sleep with every night slowly drawing out my worst nightmares.

“Umm, well, there are some stuffed bears in the maternity ward. Dr. Ackerman can get one on his way back if you’d like?” He says, eyes sparkling while rubbing calm circles into my shoulder.

I wipe my eyes and nod. Relief instantly washes over him.

Minutes pass and Eren leaves saying he’ll be right back. The Morphine still thick in my system makes it hard to move. I blink once, then twice, not being able to focus on anything longer than a few seconds. I feel like crying but my body has gone numb—my fingers tingling with pins and needles at their tips. 

The door opens and my mom walks in. Her long black hair—wet and wavy like she just showered—draped long over her shoulders. She walks over to me and stares. She doesn’t smile but she’s not exactly frowning. She just—stares.

“Mama,” I start—already choking. She snaps out of her stare and puts a hand to my cheek. Cold. “Don’t hurt me!” I scream hitting her away—kicking my blankets to the floor in the process. She looks shocked—hurt even—but she backs away anyway. She closes her eyes and a single tear falls before she turns and leaves.

I begin to cry. Everything hurts like I’m being shoved into a fire. I want to go home—someplace I can recognize. Someplace I feel safe. I tuck my knees under my chin and hold them close to my chest. It’s cold without blankets around me but I’m too scared to move. My vision sways as I let a soft whimper get the best of me—and my eyes squeeze shut. 

A something grazes my cheek. I cower against it. Warmth. My body relaxes and I move back to the hand cupping my cheek. I open my eyes—Eren’s hand is on my cheek as he is busy administering something into my I.V line.

I open my mouth to speak but the words slur together in jumbles. 

“I heightened your dose of Morphine,” Eren says, removing his hand from my cheek and placing it on my shoulder, “it’ll help numb out the pain for a little.”

I give him a muffled response and attempt to focus on my surroundings. 

“Dr. Ackerman is on his way with your stuffed animal by the way.” Eren says with a small laugh—running his fingers through his hair. “Mmm,” I yawn, stretching my legs out and lying comfortably on my side.

Eren stops what he’s doing to look at me. He smiles in exchange for a sheepish grin that looks crooked on my face. “I’m glad you’re feeling better and trusting me more. I know it’s hard—and I know it’s scary but you’re doing so well Ariah. You’re much stronger than I ever was at your age.” Eren says, checking my vitals while typing gingerly on the laptop atop the counter next to my bed.

I look at him and nod—wide eyed and curious—making little noises as I flex my feet and nuzzle into the bed I’m lying on. Eren laughs, taking an electronic thermometer to my forehead and dragging it across to take my temperature.

The door opens and a figure walks in. “Damn four-eyes wouldn’t stop talking—sorry if I took long.” Dr. Ackerman sighs.

Eren laughs bright and sunny—his fingers clacking on the keys of the laptop.

“Eren.” I whine—tugging at my scalp, “my head still hurts.”

Dr. Ackerman frowns and his eyebrows knit with concern. He gently feels my forehead then tilts my chin up—shining a pen light into my eyes.

“I gave her a second dose of morphine like you suggested.” Eren mutters while typing away on the laptop.

Dr. Ackerman grunts in agreement. He clicks the pen light off and asks me to follow his finger with my eyes. I do as he tells me to—but lose focus every few minutes—frustratingly having to readjust my vision. Once the test is over, he looks at me like he wants to say something but fails to do so. 

“What?” I ask, tugging on his lab coat.

He offers a tiny smile and pulls the plush from his pocket and hands it to me. “Here you go, kid—try to get some sleep okay?” 

I nod meekly and tuck the stuffed animal under my chin. It’s warm fur is soft on my calloused skin—and my eyes fall close.


End file.
